


Blooming from the Mud

by zarinthel



Category: Bleach, D.Gray-man
Genre: Characters will be added as they appear - Freeform, Gen, I thought about this and it was funny but a lot of my humor is tragic irony so watch out for that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-07 23:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11634336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarinthel/pseuds/zarinthel
Summary: He wakes up in the middle of some godforsaken forest, absolutely starving. Kanda reaches for Mugen, and is betrayed by three revelations in short order. One. He, naturally, does not have his sword. Two. Comparing his memories (never a good idea) to the size of his hands, he is about nine years old. Three. In his hands, he is holding a stamped ticket that reads:Soul RecordSoul: Kanda YuuDate of Death: //Error//Cause of Death: //Error//Requested Destination: Hell





	1. The 78th District

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hard Living](https://archiveofourown.org/works/595704) by [metisket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metisket/pseuds/metisket). 



_He really did burn the goddamned house down,_ Kanda thinks in that single moment after he’s finally dead, nothing but his ashes and Allen’s ashes and the house’s soot left to mingle in the quiet morning. Stupid beansprout. He smiles, relinquishing his hold on this fucked up world. Allen’s not here anymore, afterall. No Alma, no Allen. No more regrets to chain him. 

 

He wakes up in the middle of some godforsaken forest, absolutely starving. Kanda reaches for Mugen, and is betrayed by three revelations in short order. One. He, naturally, does not have his sword. Two. Comparing his memories (never a good idea) to the size of his hands, he is about nine years old. Three. In his hands, he is holding a stamped ticket that reads:

Soul Record

Soul: Kanda Yuu  
Date of Death: //Error//  
Cause of Death: //Error//  
Requested Destination: Hell

The stamp itself is of a howling dog, but that isn’t the issue here. The issue is that Kanda hates reading Japanese characters. He had never been taught them, in his life. The scientists had feared that they would trigger unwanted memories. That wasn’t to say that he _couldn’t_ read Japanese. Just that it gave him a headache and made him hallucinate ghosts. 

Kanda blinks. He _is_ a ghost now, though. He takes another glance around the forest, but it still doesn’t look like any Hell he’s heard of. Though perhaps his imagination is the failure there. If you got Allen drunk enough, he would talk about different culture’s idea of horror and how that manifested in their idea of what eternal torment was like until Kanda had no choice but to beat him over the head with his cane to make him shut up.

Kanda’s hands clench into fists, causing the ticket to dissolve into nothing. Apparently, it had served its purpose. Kanda had been kind of hoping that he would dissolve into nothing after serving his purpose, but apparently not. Or, more likely, Allen was also around here somewhere and so his purpose wasn’t finished after all. 

Kanda considers what he’s wearing. It was what he had died in, wasn’t it? Loose shirt, loose pants. He shoves up his sleeve so that he can check on the stigmata carved into his flesh. _Still there?_ It confuses him. He knew he was dead, because nothing hurt, and his stigmata had hurt for every second it pulsed within him. His curses had come into conflict within his own blood, killing him by inches as they sought to destroy one another. It had been one long battle, and they had all fucking lost. 

Komui had thought that he could fix it. 

Allen had smiled, and Kanda had punched him before he said something that made Kanda decide to actually kill him and everyone in the room. Should have taught that to Alma. 

Speaking of curses-- Kanda yanks down the front of his shirt so that he could see what was left of his other legacy. Then he stops for a little bit. Sits down at the base of a tree, near a lotus flower bloom. Stares up at the sky. 

Over his heart, there is an empty circle. It’s faded into scar now, just like his stigmata. Kanda brings his hand to his mouth and bites down with his tiny, nine year old teeth, harder and harder until he breaks the skin and draws blood. It drips down his skin, bright and colorful like a clown’s nose. 

It takes minutes for the blood to clot, hours for a scab to form. Kanda watches, fascinated. He’s never healed like this before. First he was immortal, unkillable. Then he bled from every cut. Now he’s dead, and he heals like a human. He licks him palm again, tasting the blood. He’s never been human before, after all. He scoops up a lotus flower and blows it away across his palm. Then he

_Rolls_

As something crashes down behind him, snorting and growling as if it were a cadaver screaming through a pig’s lungs. Kanda drops into a crouch, eying the thing as it regroups itself from its missed jump. A white bone mask, shaped as if it has a beak. Its body is a solid black mass, its six legs and stubby wings flailing around as it relocates Kanda and crouches for another attack. 

Kanda’s instincts scream that that’s an Akuma, that they missed one, but that’s wrong-- this thing wasn’t even trying to pretend to be human. Kanda jumps toward it, flipping in the air so that he lands on the creature’s back. His stigmata is inert, Mugen having crumbled along with the Ark, the Earl, the Heart-- so Kanda plunges his hands into the mass of shadows, yanks out the mass inside and tosses it away, hears the creature scream as black blood stains his hands. 

That damaged it, but didn’t kill it. Kanda takes a hold of the bone white mask and pulls, ripping the mask clean off. The creature wails, but what was underneath that mask was human. 

_“Kill me...shinigami...”_ She whispers before the mask reforms once more. 

This time Kanda rips its head from the main body, and it dissolves back into the atmosphere in much the same way as his ticket did. 

Not an Akuma, Kanda thinks...but close. He had listen to Lavi once when he was ranting. What had inspired the Earl? Lavi wanted to know, for some reason. Because he was an idiot. The ingredients of death, tragedy and machine. Perhaps the machine was the only true innovation of those endless reincarnations. 

Either way, Kanda wants a fucking sword, and it's not like he’s going to find one in the middle of the woods. So he wipes his black stained hands on the grass and then gets started on finding civilization. 

By the time he finds something that passes for that, he’s already killed three more not-Akuma. He thinks they're attracted to how loudly his stomach his growling. It’s growling so loudly that he can hear Alma laughing at him, which is never a good sign. 

“Get lost, street rat,” a shopkeeper spits at him. Everyone on the street is dressed in ragged, traditional Japanese clothing from before the Earl closed Japan off from the world, though some wear more modern but equally ragged attire. There are many shops that sell rags, or weapons, but almost no food vendors. 

Kanda has never stolen anything in his life, because his whole life was the Order, and then slowly dying. Wait, he put that wrong. He’s never stolen anything because the Order paid for everything, since his whole life he’s been slowly dying. All humans spend their life dying, though. So isn’t that normal? 

Lenalee had told him that, had come to him in the hospital and told him that he was dying by inches. She had been crying, then punched him when he laughed. Then she cried where he couldn’t see her when the bruise she left took a week to heal. He watches petals bloom over the shopkeeper’s eyes, and turns away. 

If Allen were here, then the shopkeepers would be falling over themselves to give away everything they owned, because Allen made people stupid. Or maybe that was the smart route, because people that didn’t give Allen things ended up naked in a gutter, trying to figure out how an old man with a blind eye and a dumb smile had robbed them of everything they owned. Suckers. 

Actually, he should be looking for Allen, shouldn’t he? It won’t be that hard, he just needs to find the worst and most disreputable part of the red light district around here and then listen for screams and breaking glass. Well, he might need to wait a bit for Allen to find it, since the stupid beansprout couldn’t navigate his way out of a soggy potato sack. 

“Hey,” another voice tries to growl at him, but it’s clearly just another urchin, like many that dart in and out of the alleys around here. “This is _our_ turf.” Kanda turns to face the kid, and then has to restrain the instinctive urge to strangle anyone with red hair. 

“I don’t take orders from you,” he says instead. It’s the first words he’s said to anyone since he died. A good precedent. 

“Oh _yeah_ ,” barks the boy, skin beginning to flush with anger. That’s enough for Kanda to be able to flush any associations from his mind-- both Cross and Lavi would probably rather die than show a genuine emotion to someone they want something from. 

He catches the punch easily, even though that type of counter is flashy and useless. 

“You’re too weak,” he says. “I don’t like you. Where is the red light district?” 

“I’m not weak, you bastard!” the kid is struggling, but Kanda’s grip is strong. This kid has no training. He doesn’t stand a chance. 

“You are,” says Kanda. People need to know where they stand in order to improve. “Where is the gambling district?” 

“This is the 78th South Rukongai, the Howling Dog District!” The kid snarls at him. “Like hell people have enough money to gamble it away.” 

Allen would say that people always have something to bet, something to lose. 

“78th District?” Kanda asks. He has a bad feeling. “Are there--” 

_“Let go of my friend!”_ Another kid screams from down the alley. She’s holding a brick and dashing towards him. She reminds him of Lenalee, so Kanda immediately gives up on getting anything from her except death wishes and curses.

“Get out of here, Rukia!” The original kid yanks free of Kanda’s grasp, repositioning himself between Kanda and Rukia. “I’ll hold him off!” 

“You can’t,” repeats Kanda, annoyed. “Because you’re weak.” 

Rukia throws the brick at his head. 

_As if that will hit me,_ Kanda thinks, before realizing a second too late that he is in a nine year old body, and it will. 

His stomach wakes him back up. He thought it was bad before, but now it feels like the hollow caverns he grew up in, empty and echoing and painful. 

“Why are you so hungry, bastard?” It's the redhead. He’s crouched down beside Kanda, as he and the girl seem to have taken him to somewhere better than the marketplace with bright green grass and a bubbling stream. 

“I’ve been hungry since I got here,” says Kanda. “What do you mean, why?” Now that he thinks about it, it is strange that he’s hungry now that he’s dead. If it turns out he needs to eat souls to survive in this place, he is going to do something that the beansprout would regret. Or maybe not, considering how much Allen loves the damned. 

“Since you got here?” The kids eyes widen, then narrow in annoyance. “You know you’re dead, right?” 

“Renji,” scolds the girl. She has dirt on her face, deliberately smeared to hide the fact that she’s going to be beautiful. So there are scum everywhere, even in death. 

“I know,” says Kanda. “I’m looking for someone who died at the same time as me.” 

Pain flashes across Rukia’s face, while Renji spits in disgust. 

“If they even remember you,” Rukia says, quietly. “They could be anywhere in the 320 Districts of the Rukongai. North, South, East, West-- it’s....unusual. For family members to end up anywhere near each other. A one in a million chance.” 

Kanda stares at her, then closes his eyes. Of course. He should have known better. 

“But you’re starving,” says Rukia. “That means you have...spiritual power. Anyone who needs to eat has power, and the more you need to eat the stronger it means you are.” 

“The head of those assholes who are crossing our turf-- the Rust Fang gang-- eats three meals a day then vomits it all back up,” says Renji, viciously. “That son of a bitch Inomata, walking around with a shinigami sword even though everyone knows he got it by sending the black robe into a Hollow nest.” 

“So this guy has food and a sword,” says Kanda. He wants to be absolutely clear. 

“Are you crazy!” Renji yells, loud enough that birds take off from a nearby tree. _Yes,_ thinks Kanda. There are lotus blossoms in the river, and when he looks at them for too long they multiply. 

“Don’t follow me,” he says instead. “You’ll just get in the way.” He knows even as he says it that it’s the wrong thing to say, that they will ignore him, because Rukia will do anything for family and Renji will do anything for Rukia, and they took him to safety and took care of him while he was unconscious, even though they shouldn’t have. Lenalee would adopt these children in a heartbeat. 

If Allen were here, he would smile, and come up with some other important task that the kids could do, and then sneak away while they were distracted. 

Kanda hates lying to children above all else. Maybe he even hates it more than he hates the Black Order. 

“I can’t protect you,” he says instead, because these children are old enough to make their own choices. What are they? 10? Older than him, or Lenalee, or Timothy. And there’s no such thing as too young to die. Or die again, as it is. 

“We know where Inomata’s hideout is,” says Renji. He bares his little baby teeth. “We’re the only ones who can take you there.” He’s still bargaining. He should leave the bargaining to Rukia. She knows better. 

“Okay,” says Kanda. “Lead the way.” 

The way appears to be through a lot of back alleys that eventually open up to reveal a building guarded by two men with rusted knives and a smell so awful that Kanda seriously considers if it's an intentional secondary weapon. Neither Renji nor Rukia do more than wrinkle their noses at it though, so maybe it’s just him who hasn’t acclimated to the Howling Dog District. Kanda takes a deep breath, and then immediately regrets it. Now it feels like his tongue is covered in rotting garbage. He’s been bathed in blood and felt more clean than this. 

Having learned from previous mistakes caused by arrogance, Kanda approaches the two men with his hands behind his back, doing his best to seem harmless. As he has zero experience with this, he assumes that he comes across as more dead eyed and indifferent than anything. But he’d been underestimated a lot, when he’d looked this age before. Every Akuma in entire cities would seek him out, seeing the child in the uniform and mistaking him for prey. Understandable, as that was also what Kanda saw when he looked back at them. He’d killed a lot of Akuma dressed in mother’s skins, those first few months outside. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here?” One of the guards laughs. “Got lost on the way to the whorehouse, girlie? Or your mama waiting til you’re older, so she can get a better price?” 

It’s been awhile since Kanda has been mistaken for a girl. It happened less as he failed to age gracefully, and the frown lines radiated out from his eyes in a cross pattern with his cursed tattoo. 

“Leave her alone, Yoshiaki,” says the other one. “You know what the boss thinks about leaving the gate when you’re on duty.” He drags a finger across his throat, makes a gagging sound. 

“Nobody needs to know, Niou,” Yoshiaki says, lazily beckoning Kanda to come closer. “Isn’t that right?” 

“No,” says Kanda, and throws a brick at his head. The piece of shit staggers and falls, bleeding heavily from his temple. The second one opens his mouth to sound the alarm and Kanda kicks him in the crotch, hard enough that he hears something pop. The almost yell turns into a quiet, horrified gasp for air. That one might live, but Yoshiaki is never getting back up again. 

Kanda continues past them into the main building. It’s mid morning, and Kanda has been assured that most of the men of the Rust Fang gang will be too busy trying to sleep off their hangovers or general sickness to do anything but groan in his direction. Kanda bypasses them for now, resolving to figure out if it’s worth killing them once he actually has a sword to help him do the job. 

The last room of the hideout is so utterly strange that Kanda has to stop for a minute in order to convince himself that the entire thing is more than just him seeing things. Inside the room, the light comes from unstably burning candles that flared and guttered at random intervals. The sleeping gang boss keeps two dogs chained to the wall on opposite sides of the room, both wearing animal skulls carved to resemble the not-Akuma masks along with polluted, spiked collars. The one closest to Kanda is awake and watching him, but has made no sound to alert his master of the threat. Its skull mask is actually a huge fish head that bobbles over the dog's mouth in a way reminiscent of a muzzle. The other dog has one ridged like a lizard. Inomata himself sleeps in the center of the room on a mound of fur, mouth open as he snores. The sword lies in easy reach of his hands, should he be suddenly thrust from his sprawling slumber. At least he is alone in the bed. 

Stealth has never been a strong point of Kanda’s, so the fact that he’s gotten this far without having to deal with anyone other than the outer guardsmen is so much better than how he thought this whole thing would go that he doesn’t really have a plan for how to get the sword without fighting the man, the dogs, and the entire organization for it. Kanda shrugs, dismissing the issue. Whatever. As long as he has the sword, he doesn’t care if he does end up fighting the whole organization for it. 

He’s been barefoot ever since he got to this afterworld, so he doesn’t need to change anything in order to make himself as quiet as possible. 

The dog huffs a bit as Kanda draws close to him, so Kanda stops to pet him. On one hand, he regrets this because the dog’s fur is matted with black blood and fish guts. On the other hand, he’s going to make Inomata regret it even more. He crawls over to where Inomata is sleeping, carefully staying below the bed’s line of sight until he can reach up and grab the sword. He feels a short second of 

_Resistance. Who?_

But it's nothing to him. The sword trembles ever so slightly in his hands, reflecting the dim light of the tallow candles that line the room and add to the giant stink. He kills Inomata quickly. 

The dogs are both up now, pacing and tugging at the end of their chain leashes. Fishbone is still silent, still watching him. Lizard is growling deep in his throat. Kanda turns next to him, where she is laughing at him, calloused hand reaching up to hide her mouth. 

Allen always thought that it was how he was made that sentenced him to a life of ruin. Kanda knows that’s just Allen projecting. Dying, chaining himself to the Order, Falling-- he doesn’t need other people to damn him. 

He breaks Fishbone’s chain first, then Lizard. The sword works better than it should, cutting through the wrought iron with only a couple of chops. He’s expecting the dogs to attack him, to howl and wake the base so he can fight his way out properly. Instead, one of them sticks its cold, slimy nose into the section between his throat and his collarbone, and he’s the one that shrieks. 

He’s going to skin these dogs alive and then use their coats as laundry rags. Lizard opens up its jaws and lets its long, gross tongue loll out of its mouth. It’s laughing at him, Kanda knows. He hadn’t realized that dogs could be used to so expertly stand in for that dumb rabbit. 

“Where is the food kept?” Kanda asks the dogs, not having any high expectations. But maybe they're better at standing in for Lavi than he thought, as they both immediately start trotting towards a door hidden in a cluttered corner of the room. At first glance it looks rusted shut, but when Kanda kicks the door it creaks open to show pantry full of fermenting alcohol and food just on the edge of rotting. 

Kanda gives the alcohol a dark scowl. Chasing Allen through the red light districts of Eastern Europe while nursing a throbbing hangover had managed to slip right into the cracks of his nightmares to the point where he point blank refused to touch the substance anymore. But he can’t ignore his hunger any longer, and he goes through the stale, spoiled food so fast that Allen would be jealous. 

He is still hungry, when he pauses. But it is ignorable. 

The dogs have eaten their fill behind him, gobbling up dropped crusts of bread, bones of meat, fish heads and tails and other less pleasant things that cover the ground. Some of them are things that dogs probably shouldn’t eat, but Kanda makes no moves to stop them. There is nothing living in this strange world beyond. He can taste the food as he eats it and it tastes like the air and the dust and his blood-- it tastes of when he drank down his Innocence and chained his fate to Allen-- it tastes of fate, his enemy above all others. 

What are Akuma made of? Death, tragedy, machine. 

What is he made of? Death, tragedy, persistence. 

It will have to do. 

He paces back out of the room, sheathe tied over his back. It knocks against his knees every time he takes a step, an annoying but necessary reminder of his current stature. The blade itself he wields, its steel still dripping with Inomata’s blood. The dogs follow behind him, their broken chains dragging along the ground. 

The gang members are awake now. They watch him. 

“You’re new around here,” one of them says. “Come from the 79th?” There’s still an edge of bravado in his voice, but he’s scared. Kanda can see his pulse beating in his throat. 

“No,” says Kanda. He flicks the sword, watches the blood spatter. “I’m new.” 

“Thought the shinigami gave you a sword once you joined up,” says another, speaking from the back. 

“I wanted this one,” says Kanda. Shinigami, shinigami- what are the shinigami? Angels? If they have wings, he won't be able to restrain himself from trying to kill them. 

“Let us go, you stupid shitstain!” 

“Yeah! Drop dead, ugly!” 

Kanda hears some familiar voices coming from the front of the hideout, and has to restrain himself from actively grinding his teeth. Lavi is going to find out about this and then _laugh_ in his _face._

“Don’t touch them,” Kanda says, loud and cold enough to carry. 

“Or what?” Another man enters, dragging the kids in behind them. He has a grin on his face, a ‘I hold the cards here’ type of expression that matches the infected scar that curls over his lip. 

“Or I kill you,” says Kanda, already bored of him. Allen taught him to play poker with Tyki Mikk's cards. “Wait,” Kanda continues. He could almost smile. “You’ve touched them already, haven’t you?” 

Now the sword truly needs a good cleaning before Kanda can feel comfortable sheathing it. 

He looks at the silent room.

“Don’t take things beyond your means to keep them,” he says. There will always be more scum. It’s not worth it to soil his blade with their blood. 

Renji and Rukia follow him when he leaves along with the dogs. 

“I didn’t bring any food for you,” he says, once they’re far enough away. 

“Bastard!--”

“Here,” Kanda says. He hands them an emptied wine flask filled with coin. He had found it, or rather he had kicked it and stubbed his toe. It should be enough, he hopes. He doesn’t know how often they need to eat. 

Renji grabs at it, then nearly drops it as he tries to compensate for the unanticipated weight. 

“Clumsy fool,” says Rukia, absentmindedly watching him. Renji scowls. 

“We can’t take this--” he starts, but Rukia cuts him off. 

“We have a lot of mouths to feed,” she says, low enough that Kanda pretends not to hear her. He doesn’t want to know. “Our friends need non-rotten food.” 

Renji doesn’t argue. 

“You’re not staying,” he says to Kanda instead. 

“I’m looking for someone,” Kanda says, and feels the weight of those words that have always doomed him. “I can’t rest until I’ve found him.” 

Rukia is watching him again, with her dark blue eyes. Like Lenalee, he had thought at first. But she has no Komui, to base her world around. No chain strong enough to anchor her. It will come, Kanda wants to tell her. But maybe it has already come, and broken. 

He hates metaphors. 

“You should go to the Seireitei,” Rukia tells him. “If your friend is as strong as you, he won’t be able to stay in the outer districts, no matter where he is. There’s not enough food here.” 

“Why don’t you go, if there’s not enough food?” Kanda asks. He already knows the answer, though. 

Renji and Rukia shake their heads. 

“It’s not just us,” Renji says. “We have other friends here, not strong enough to take the Academy test. And the distance between Districts....” He trails off. It’s clear he’s thought about this a lot. 

“What is in the Seireitei?” Kanda asks. Why is it better?

“The Seireitei is the center of Soul Society,” says Rukia. She crouches down, tracing circles in the dirt. They’re worse than Allen’s. “The only ones who can live there are the nobles and the shinigami.” 

“So why would beansprout go there,” Kanda asks, repeating his question. 

Rukia spasms in front of him. 

“To become a Shinigami, fool!” She spits out. She’s not very good at explaining things. 

“What is a Shinigami,” says Kanda, deciding that as long as he has a direction to go in this line of questioning is actually pointless and he should just get going. 

This time it’s Renji who loses control of himself. 

“The Shinigami maintain the balance of the world!” He gets out, voice rising. “They hunt the Hollows that come to eat us, and they maintain order and strike down the guilty, and they wield their zanpakutos to unleash the power of their souls! Everyone wants to be a Shinigami!” 

He sounds so much like Alma that Kanda has to look away. 

So. Not-Akumas are Hollows, probably. And the Shinigami are the Exorcists. The Seireitei is sounding like a better bet for finding Allen by the minute. Kanda’s gone back to the Order for Allen before, which. If he gets fucking promoted again he’s going to make Allen regret burning down that stupid house. 

“Which way to the 77th District,” He says instead, and Rukia points. 

“Just go north,” she says, softly. “And if you see someone who--” She stops herself. “Nevermind. Good luck, weirdo.” 

“My name is Kanda Yuu,” Kanda tells them. 

He hates telling people his name. 

The dogs follow him, when he leaves.


	2. The 11th Division

He meets them in the forest of the 51st District. For the first couple of districts he passed through, he went through the main town area, listened to the shopkeepers, took money from the people who tried to take his sword, paid for the food. Then he realized it would be faster to move through the forests where only the Hollows lived, only stopping for food when he was walking on a carpet of lotus flowers. There is more order the further north he goes, and less muggers to take coin from. It’s easier this way.  
The dogs eat fish from the stream and squirrel from the forest. Their coats shine. He broke their skull masks, when he realized they were shadowing him. Sometimes, he regrets that. 

Like right now. 

There’s more Hollows than he expected in this forest. They flock around him, flaring neck ridges and tail feathers and tentacle masses. They’re as weak as level one Akuma, possibly weaker. Kanda could kill thousands of them. 

He could kill thousands if he were fully grown. This body is weak and starving and _human_. He needs to save strength. He throws himself in front of Fishbone instead, and takes a claw across his chest. It burns. 

“You are nothing but death and tragedy,” he spits at the Hollows. They scream back at him. “You cannot kill me,” he cuts one down. “You will not kill them,” he takes another splash of acid meant for Lizard. “And you will not stop me from my path.” He kills three of them, jumping from one back to another as his shortened reach limits him. 

He hears clapping, and whirls. 

“What a beautiful speech,” the man says, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. Colorful feathers sprout from his right eyebrow and eyelashes. 

The acid one of the Hollows spat has gotten in the claw wound Kanda received earlier. 

“What do you want,” Kanda says. It doesn't matter, he’s been through worse. 

“Can it be? You, a lowly, unranked Shinigami, are addressing me, the most gorgeous member of the Eleventh division in such an unrefined manner?” 

“I’m not a Shinigami,” says Kanda. He wants to wash the blood out of his hair. It’s grown longer now, down to his mid back. Of course, that mainly means that it tangles in every fucking breeze, but he needs at least one part of himself to not be like it was when he was nine. When he looked nine. Whichever. 

“Trying to deceive me with a blatant lie like that makes you look ugly,” the Shinigami says. “You are poaching on my mission and you aren’t even trying to hide your zanpaktou. Academy student, then? Get out of my sight before I kill you for staining my beauty with your presence.” 

“That’s not a zanpakuto, that’s my sword,” Kanda says. He’s tired, and grumpy, and bored. And zanpakutos are like parasitic soul manifestations, he thinks. His sword just cuts really well. 

Silence from the Shinigami. 

“You want to fight or not,” Kanda asks impatiently. “I need to bathe the dogs.” 

“Just to clarify,” says the Shinigami. “How did you get that pretty sword?” 

“Killed the guy who had it,” Kanda grunts. Fighting this guy would probably be more annoying than fun, anyway. He glances up at the Shinigami and then immediately drops into a crouch, blocking the sword thrust that the Shinigami had sent straight towards his head. 

“Did the sword guard always resemble a lotus flower?” The Shinigami asks, striking against Kanda’s defenses again and again. 

Kanda blinks. _Wait, that wasn’t just a persistent hallucination?_

“It took a couple of days,” he admits, then switches to the offensive, striking out at the Shinigami’s face. It's an easy weak point. 

The shinigami shifts and appears behind him, clashing against Kanda’s sword yet again. Kanda really doesn’t have time for this. He’s going to need to head into town for food after all. 

“Why do you fight?” The Shinigami asks him, and this is an important question, the type of question that lets Allen get his hooks into people. 

“Why not?” All he knows is fighting and dying, and he’s already dead. 

The Shinigami jumps backward, throws his head back, and cackles. 

“51 is a beautiful number!” He proclaims to the sky, before turning his gaze back towards Kanda. The air crackles green around him, and he slides his hand down his blade. “Now,” he says, smiling so wide his face looks to split. “Prove yourself worthy of your words. _Bloom, Fuji Kujaku_.” 

His sword activates, growing from a katana into a four bladed sickle as he dashes forward, slicing down at Kanda from above. 

Kanda isn’t used to needing to prevent attacks from hitting him. It’s strange. He blocks most of the attacks but one of them gets through, gashing him across the face and narrowly missing one of his eyes. 

Fuck it. This isn’t the time to fix his swordsmanship. 

Kanda pulls his sheath lose from his back, shifting into his favored dual sword style and jumps forward, flipping towards the Shinigami. Sheath holds the sickles back sword goes through the gut, rips back as Kanda pulls the sword back. Too weak in this body, the sickles come down over his shoulder and drag down his shoulder all the way to his elbow. His grip is growing slippery with blood. 

“You’re not even trying,” says the Shinigami. 

His elbow is burning, and Kanda realizes-- _both_ his elbows are burning, his stigmata acting as a brand upon his skin. Well then. 

“ _Unsheathe, Mugen_ ,” Kanda growls, and the words aren’t right but they're close enough. His sword ignites with blue flame and he slashes again at the shinigami, sending a wave of indigo to burn the same spot where he had gutted him. 

The Shinigami gives a short scream in surprise and pain, and then licks his lips, grinning. 

“Do you know what an even more beautiful number than 51 is?” He asks. 

Kanda thrusts forward with his sheathe, now also enveloped in flames. 

“Second Illusion,” he states, this time feeling the right amount of give as he manages to pierce a lung. 

“It’s _three_ ,” says the Shinigami smugly, ignoring the blood pouring from his mouth. 

“Quit playing around, Yumichika,” A voice growls from behind him. “We weren’t meant to come this far in.” 

“Ikkaku!” Yumichika stares directly down into Kanda’s eyes. 

Kanda scowls at him. He’s going to cut this guy’s knees off. He ignores the fact that this would likely still leave Yumichika taller than he is. 

“Look what I found!” He points his finger at Kanda close enough that Kanda wants to bite it. 

“A brat, Yumichika?” Ikkaku has a bald head and red marks around his eyes. He looks irritating. 

“No, you ungraceful clod. Our _new fourth_!” Yumichika sounds way too gleeful for someone with only one working lung. 

“I’m going to kill you,” says Kanda. 

“That’s perfect, just say that to anyone that asks you any questions.” Yumichika says, carefully checking over his orange scarf thing for blood stains. 

“He’s good enough?” Ikkaku asks. His head is so bald and shiny that Kanda suspects wax. 

“He’s even got a fake shikai,” says Yumichika. 

Kanda bristles, offended. 

“What the fuck is a shikai?”

“It’s the manifestation of your soul through your fighting spirit,” answers Ikkaku, fingers lingering around his own blade. “Yachiru’s been looking for a new playmate,” he adds, and now his grin is all at Kanda’s expense. 

Kanda can’t take them both on in his current state and they seem to be recruiting him into the Seireitei, so he only has one main issue with their recruitment strategy. 

“The dogs are coming with me,” he says. 

Ikkaku looks at them. 

“Cute,” he says. It’s so flat that it sounds like an insult. “What’re their names?”

“That’s Lizard,” says Kanda, pointing at the dog with a giant white patch on his face. “The other one’s Fishbone.” 

Fishbone picks that moment to yawn, showing of his gross, stained teeth. 

“They’ll fit right in,” says Ikkaku. Kanda still can’t tell if he’s joking. 

His stomach picks that moment to growl. 

“You gonna drop dead if we don’t feed ya?” Ikkaku asks, tucking his hands behind his head. 

Kanda considers. He’s still bleeding from long rakes down his back and his arm, along with a deep claw mark over his chest that’s not really visible because it's covered with a sticky white burning acid. He last stopped in town three days ago. He looks down and watches the lotus flowers bloom from the drops of his blood cooling on the ground. 

“The dogs haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he says. 

“I’ved never shunpoed while holding two giant ass butt ugly dogs before,” says Ikkaku, cheerfully. “Sounds like a challenge!” 

Yumichika picks up Kanda with one hand by the back of his collar, holding him so that none of the dirt or blood on him can come into contact with his uniform.

“Blood is only beautiful when you decorate yourself with your enemies blood upon the field of battle, or when you suffer for the sake of art!” Yumichika informs him. “But the number four is truly the most ugly number there is, so I will sacrifice the pure white of my hands for this.” 

“Put me down,” snarls Kanda. 

“To be held in my grasp is truly an envious position,” Yumichika continues as the scenery starts to blur around him. “An offer so stunning in its magnanimity that none who I ever previously gave this honor to managed to survive the rapture they felt.” 

“I hope you get a bald spot on the top of your head,” says Kanda. “And everyone will mistake you for an uglier Ikkaku.” 

“I will gut you and use your entrails as a necklace,” says Yumichika. He smiles sweetly. “Then I’ll carve your finger bones into beads and wear them in my hair.” 

“You’d choke on them,” says Kanda. 

“You’d be amazed what I can swallow, kid,” says Yumichika. 

“My name is Kanda.” 

“Picked that out yourself, did you?” Yumichika snorts. “You miss rice that badly?” 

“I didn’t pick it,” says Kanda, sourly. “But it’s mine now.” 

“That’s how it goes,” says Yumichika, eyes losing focus for a second. “Okay, Kanda. You want to be a Shinigami, right?” 

Kanda does his best to shrug at while being dragged along at the speed of sound. 

“Whatever. So, typically, to become a Shinigami, you have to take this stupid... aptitude test, or whatnot and then kill time at Shin-o Academy until you either receive an invite from one of the Divisions or are able to fulfill whatever requirements the Divisions have. Basically, it's to teach losers from the first twenty districts how to fight and to let captains scout out the good people for their division. With you, we’re just going to skip that step entirely and make you fight everyone in the entire 11th Division, and you’re good enough to beat everyone but me, Ikkaku, or our glorious captain and lieutenant.” 

“I’m good enough to beat _you_ ,” says Kanda. 

“I’ll make lipstick out of your heart’s blood, kid.” Yumichika grins, baring his shiny teeth. “Maybe if you could do more that use that fake shikai of yours, you might stand a chance.” 

“It’s not fake,” Kanda says, mutinously. He still doesn’t really know what a shikai is. 

“But it’s not real either,” says Yumichika. “Your zanpakuto appears to like you enough that it’s willing to work even without you using it’s proper name, but it can never display its true power that way. When was the last time you slept? If your zanpakuto is this active, it should be at least _whispering_ in your dreams.” 

Kanda stares at him in disbelief. Lots of things fucking whisper in his dreams. Most of them are a hell of a lot louder than _whispers_. 

“Maybe if it shouts I’ll hear it,” he says, dubiously. 

“I’m going to drop you now, kid,” Yumichika says suddenly. Then he lets go. 

They aren’t that far up, really. That fast step-skip that Yumichika was using just let him speed up, not actually fly. He’s fallen from worse. Lenalee has drop kicked him from worse.  
Kanda hits the ground hard, and feels one of the bones in his ankle snap. Weird. Walking on that until it heals is going to hurt. 

He looks up, then has to crane his neck in order to look up even further. They’ve stopped in front of a curved white wall with its endless stone seamlessly forged together to present a barrier against the outside world. Or a demarcation between the worthy and unworthy, the clean and unclean, the lucky and the cursed. Directly in front of them is a gate, marked with red to show its separate existence. 

“It looks ugly,” says Kanda. 

“Yes, I’ve always thought so,” says Yumichika. He kicks at the gate, causing a loud bang. 

“Higonyuudo!” He screams. “Let me in!” 

“I just lifted the gate for the honored 3rd Seat and his dogs tried to _eat_ my _blessed hat_!” Comes the second scream from above. A heavy weight man with strong eyebrows and a fat chin leaps down from the top of the wall, his white banded cloth hat supporting a distinctive bite mark and a bit of drool. His feet make a crater in the ground when he lands. 

“A newcomer, honored 5th Seat?,” Higonyuudo asks. “As the Gatekeeper of the South and Guardian of the Red Hollow Gate, I’m not allowed to let anyone not a noble or shinigami in, you know that.” 

“This is our 4th Seat,” says Yumichika. He picks Kanda up by the back of his shirt again and waves him back and forth. “See? Only Shinigami can own zanpakuto.” He sets Kanda back down. 

Higonyuudo stares at Yumichika. 

“I’ve always wanted to fight a gate guard,” says Yumichika. “Did you know, Ikkaku called dibs on the Gatekeeper before Danzomaru of the North. I never got my chance to... share my appreciation for--” He flicked his hair. “The man’s compliments.” 

Higonyuudo blanches paler than the wall. He hurries over to the bottom of the gate, hat flapping as he goes. He digs his fingers into the soil underneath the gates then heaves, lifting the stone up inch by inch until he is standing with the gate resting on his shoulders. “Welcome back to the Seireitei,” he says, breathing at a slow, controlled pace. 

So this is like the Order’s former entrance. Impressively hard to enter, but the people in charge have likely already made an easy access back door for themselves. 

Kanda steps through the gate and immediately has to pause, as images overlay themselves over what actually exists in front of him. His only memories of Japan are fighting Akuma through blood soaked streets and old, decrepit homes. It jars him, seeing a place so clean. 

“To nice for someone from the 51st Rukongai?” Yumichika asks. “Don’t worry, Kanda. You’ll get used to it.” 

“78th Rukongai,” says Kanda. He doesn’t know why he’s telling Yumichika this. “I was already heading north.” 

Yumichika looks at him, and for a second his eyes change from bloodthirsty brightness to something vague and cold. 

“The food’s all rotten, that far out,” he says. “All the farms are in the first 20 Districts.” 

“I know,” says Kanda. He tilts his head. “Does the food still taste like dust, here?” 

“No,” says Yumichika. His lips crook up. “Even the worst academy student eats rice freshly picked from the fields.” 

Kanda nods. Of course. 

“So, where is the 11th Division?” He asks. He’s still hungry, has been for every single week that blurred together as he paced through those forests. 

“We’re right next to the 8th Division,” says Yumichika, which does the double duty of not answering his question and _not making any sense._

“What,” says Kanda. 

Yumichika shrugged. “Eight’s an okay number,” he says. "It's plain." 

Whatever. 

“Let’s just go,” says Kanda impatiently. 

There are swarms of shinigami in the streets that they pass through, but most don’t even glance at Kanda, with the few that do so then taking one look at Yumichika and actually crossing the street to get away from him. 

“Most of the other divisions consist of cowards and weaklings,” says Yumichika. He snorts in disdain. “Many of them are so weak that they considered our former 4th seat of being _lieutenant class_ when he could barely even hear his shikai. Though from his transfer, it seems he could see his unsuitability for the 11th as clearly as I could.” 

“He wanted to be promoted?” 

“There is no higher honor than to serve and fight under Captain Kenpachi Zaraki!” Yumichika’s voice switches to how Komui sounds when he proclaims his love for his sister. 

Kanda doesn’t want to touch this topic with a thirty foot pole. 

Also, his decision to accept being promoted to general was possibly the worst decision he ever made in his shittily prolonged life. 

“I’ll burn any promotion offers,” he swears. 

“Yachiru is going to love you,” says Yumichika. 

Kanda looks at him. That is....definitely a threat. 

“Here we are!” Says Yumichika, cheerfully moving on to point at a writhing mass of people in black shinigami uniforms and red and blue uniforms waiting outside of a wooden gate. 

“Our monthly ranking competition is open for anyone in the Seireitei to join in, with the winner getting the privilege of fighting with our captain and lieutenant!”  
Kanda blinks. 

“It’s also our only form of recruitment and dismissal,” Yumichika adds. “If you don’t make the cut, we boot you.”  
Kanda nods. 

“So I just need to fight them all?” 

“Sure, why not,” says Yumichika. “We’ve been collecting too much dead weight in the division recently. Anyone that gives up when they’re taken down by a Rukongai brat doesn’t deserve to fight alongside me.” He bares his teeth in a snarl. 

Kanda draws his sword. This won’t take long. 

It doesn’t. 

Kanda enters through the gate alone, ignoring the groans and whimpers behind them. They’re alive, he doesn’t know why they’re complaining. Well. As alive as anyone is, in this strange place beyond the living world. 

The first thing he sees are the dogs. They run up to him, lick the blood off his skin. Someone has fed them, brushed them, bathed them. They smell better than he does. 

Beyond the dogs are four people, arrayed around the dusty courtyard. 

Yumichika stands with his weapon sheathed, hair moving in an invisible breeze generated by his own core of power. 

Beside him, Ikkaku has his sword leaned over his shoulder. He is watching Kanda with a slight smirk. His power is heavier than Yumichika’s, weighting down the swirling dust so that he stands in an inverted spotlight of his own making. 

To his left stands a little girl, who looks younger than Kanda. Her hair is pale pink, cheeks stained in permanent blush. She is pouting, arms crossed against her chest. A pink katana hangs from her belt, longer than her legs so that it drags on the ground behind her. The bloodlust pours out of her in palpable waves, so much that it makes Kanda feel as if she is the closest thing to an Akuma he has yet found, or a Noah like Tyki Mikk, content to wear the vestige of human skin. 

“Ken-chan!” She chirps, tugging on Kenpachi Zaraki’s sleeve. “He looks like _fun~_ ” 

Kenpachi Zaraki is wearing a ragged white overcoat over the normal shinigami uniform, with white bandages wrapped around his midriff. His hair stands in stiff peaks all over his skull, with each peak capped by a tiny bell that all jingle in the breeze. An eyepatch covers his right eye, edged in gold. Three straps hold it in place, two running through his hair and one connecting to the collar he wears around his throat. His sword is completely covered in bandages. If Kanda felt the force of his soul all at once he would have been driven to his knees, but Kanda had been sensing him since he entered through the gate into the Seireitei, each step of his feet drawing him closer to this man soaked in death. 

Kanda looks at them and smiles. 

“Who’s first?” 

“Me!” Says the girl, bouncing up and down on her toes and raising her hand. “Pick me, pick me!” 

Kenpachi tilts his head back and laughs, harsh and grating. 

“No, Yachiru,” He says, “I like him. We’ll do this... the _proper_ way.” He laughs again as Yachiru giggles. 

Then he steps forward so that he stands directly in front of Kanda. This close he towers above Kanda, six and a half feet tall at the very least. Kanda grimaces. He doesn’t hate tall people as much as he _hates being short._

“What is your name,” says Kenpachi. 

“Kanda.” 

“Only that?” 

Kanda hesitates. No one knows him here. He could lose that name forever, never hear it again. 

“I have another name,” he says. “I’ll tell you after I defeat you.” 

“That’s the spirit,” says Kenpachi, face still split in an eerie grin. “So. The challenge.” 

He flings open his hands, baring his naked chest. 

“Prove to me that your soul longs for blood,” he declares. “Show me your will, Kanda!” 

“Only that?” echoes Kanda, unsheathing his sword. If this is the challenge, then it’s likely that Kenpachi’s skin will be far harder than flesh and blood could hope to be. It’s only natural, here in this place where flesh is but a memory of the soul. For something of this magnitude, the bare bones of his Second Illusion are nowhere near strong enough to bother with. No, Kenpachi asked for his soul. 

Kanda closes his eyes. He can hear his heart beat more easily this way. 

_Ba-dum_

He has no curse of burning life to draw upon

_Ba-dum_

No foreign Innocence to drive him onward

_Ba-dum_

He has nothing but the lotus flowers

_Ba-dum_

And Allen

_Ba-dum_

What had he said, when Allen had granted him his dearest wish?

Kanda opens his eyes. This sword may be new but his soul...he has been listing to those whispers far before his final death. Has he not died, over and over again?

_“Breathe easily, Kurayami,”_ he whispers. “First Dream; Rising Towards the Heavens.” 

He only realizes he’s moved once Kenpachi’s blood spurts in his face. He licks his lips, tasting it. 

“Welcome to the 11th Division, Kanda,” says Kenpachi. “We’ll fight once you’re healed back up.” 

“Wait,” says Kanda. He’s swaying on his feet, his ankle screaming while his single slash has reopened the wounds in his arm and chest. He sheathes his sword and flings his arms out, showing his papery skin and caved in stomach. 

“It’s only fair,” he says. He is no longer condemned to the life of an Exorcist, irreplaceable and fighting against inescapable odds. He can fight the way he only dreamed of. “Blood for blood.” 

“Blood for blood,” Kenpachi echoes, and smiles. Then he draws his blade. It grates against the sheathe on its way out, the metal screaming and shaking. The edge itself is ragged, old blood still remaining along its edge. That is not a blade that cuts once, it is a blade that will cut a thousand times. 

“Are you prepared?” Kenpachi asks. 

Kanda nods. Behind Kenpachi, Ikkaku is holding the dogs back as they growl, trying to run to him. 

It slides through him like a jittering bonesaw. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the pain or the blood loss that sends him to oblivion. 

Kanda wakes up to Fishbone licking his face. 

“Get off of me, you dumb dog,” He grumbles, trying to bat at the dog. 

“Eeek!” A voice shrieks close to him. “Please don’t move, sir officer! You’re still not completely recovered!” 

“I’m fine,” says Kanda. He shoves himself into an upright position in the bed, looking down at himself. His chest is completely swathed in bandages, and so is his left arm. His ankle has been splinted, and then wrapped to the point where it looked more like a ball than a part of his body. 

“Oh?” A different feminine voice interrupts his mental catalogue of his wounds. “Yamada, didn’t I ask you to bring me here the moment the patient woke up?” 

“Captain Unohana!” The voice shrieked, reaching an even higher pitch. “I swear, he just woke up as you arrived! You have miraculous timing, Captain!”

Another Captain?

Kanda turns to face the door, still petting Fishbone and Lizard. The woman has a peaceful smile framed by her dark hair, which is parted into two but twined together below her chin. 

“Trying to leave so soon?” She asks him, smiling. Kanda is immediately pinned down by the force of her power, which feels like all his terrors and shadowy nightmares given weight and presence. 

“..No,” Kanda forces out, trying to talk through the sudden onslaught. “I was simply looking at my injuries.” 

“An infected chest would, three deep slashes down your back, one long gash down your left arm, a slice across your face, a broken ankle, and the massive hole in your lower abdomen where Captain Zaraki struck you.” She summarizes his injuries with that serene smile still firmly pasted on her face. “Traces of starvation and malnutrition inhibiting proper reiatsu growth and development. Severe dehydration. Need I go on?” 

It sounded much worse than it was when she said it like that. 

“Where am I?” Kanda asks instead of answering her. 

“This is the headquarters of the 4th Division,” Unohana answers. She beams. “We are neighbors with the 11th Division, which is likely the only reason you survived.”

“You were only unconscious for three days!” The pipsqueak pipes up. “We thought that you’d be unconscious for weeks!” 

“The 11th Division always recruits...hardy members,” says Unohana, lips curling upward in what should be a smile. “You seem to have earned your seat, at least. However, you being awake merely means that the timetable until your release back into the 11th division will happen sooner than was anticipated. I will be...most displeased if you engage in strenuous activities while under my roof.” 

Kanda leans back against the pillows, annoyed but largely resigned. The main issue he had with being on bedrest was that it reminded him of being old and dying from his stupid body betraying him piece by piece, but the circumstances-- and the expectation of a full recovery-- were enough for him to be more willing to wait for approval before wandering off. Come to think of it, he hadn’t died from his own body after all! Since beansprout had burned the house down. 

“Yamada,” the Captain continues. “Keep a close eye on him, hmm?” 

“ _Me?_ I mean, Yes Captain!” The pipsqueak drops into a bow so low his head hits the floor. “I’ll do my best!” 

Captain Unohana flows out of the room as quietly as she appeared. 

Kanda waits an extra five minutes before making eye contact with the pipsqueak. 

“I’m bored,” he informs him. 

The pipsqueak jumped a solid three feet in the air, his chin length hair standing straight up. Then he hit his fist against his palm as his mouth dropped open in a particularly vacant expression. “Ah.” He says. “The scary guy said that would happen. He left you something!” He bolts out of the room. 

Kanda stares after the pipsqueak blankly. This guy is way too much fun to mess with. 

Yamada ran back after just a couple seconds, his hands over flowing with carefully bundled stacks.. Of paper. 

“Is that...” Kanda trails off. He could already read the first one. Barely. 

Mission Report: Hollow Extermination in Sector 8 of District 25, East  
I KiLleD AlL oF tHEm! WitH mY ManLy Hands of StEel! I Feasted on..... 

“I am going to _kill him--_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart!!!!!!
> 
> kanda in rukongai with the dogs:  
> https://cherah-art.tumblr.com/image/1639139343
> 
> kanda in shinigami uniform with zanpaktuo:  
> http://greename.tumblr.com/post/163986118799/art-for-wonderful-fic-blooming-from-the-mud
> 
> thank you so much everyone who commented! comments and excitement are what motivate me to write this!


	3. The Five Noble Clans

“I’m pretty sure that this is not okay, Kanda-sama--” 

“Call me that again and _you_ won’t be okay, pipsqueak,” Kanda snaps. “You know how to read, correct?” 

“Yes! But--” 

“Then read these.” Kanda shoves three quarters of the stack over to Hanatarou. 

“You have to be at least Lieutenant level! To even touch these!” Hanatarou’s voice cracks as he tries to wave the paper away without actually touching it with his hands. 

Kanda jams Hanataro’s closest hand down onto the paper. 

“There. You touched them. Now _read_ them.” 

Hanatarou screams a little then starts scanning through the pages. 

Kanda goes back to his own part of the pile, which consists of Missions sent to the 11th Division that no one had taken, for some reason. A lot of them appear to be joint missions with the 6th Division. 

“What’s with the 6th division?” Kanda asks Hanatarou, scowling as he scans through another ignored mission dated....."And what year is it?” 

The pipsqueak buries his face in his hands. 

“1403 F.G.,” he mutters. “Approximately. Depending on who you ask.”

Kanda stares at the mission report, which had been assigned _approximately_ a decade ago. 

“Right,” he says, and makes a separate pile. 

“The 6th Division...” Hanatarou trails off awkwardly. “They don’t associate with the 4th much. They’re very proud to serve under the Kuchiki Clan.” 

“Stuck up suck ups,” summarizes Kanda. Not that bad, then. He’ll sign himself up for one or two of the backlog missions and then see what happens. He reaches over and scratches Fishbone’s ears. 

He finds another one, dated for 13 years ago. If the Black Order operated on this level of efficiency the world would likely have ended before Kana made it to 13. This one’s addressed to....Captain Kenpachi Kiganjo? Whoever the fuck that is. He waves it in Hanatarou’s face. 

“This one is somebody else’s problem,” he says. Finally. 

“Actually--” 

“Somebody else’s problem,” Kanda repeats, eyes narrowing. Lizard bumps his cold nose against Kanda’s unbandaged leg. 

“He’s dead,” The pipsqueak blurts out. 

Kanda looks at spirit sitting across from him straight in the eyes. 

“ _Dead_ , dead. Really dead. Moved on into the cycle of reincarnation. Bled all over himself. Gored by a raggedy sword edge. Never coming back,” Hanatarou rambles. “Good riddance,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“You can kill a captain to take their spot?” asks Kanda, now mildly interested. 

“ _No_ ,” says Hanatarou, waving his hands around wildly in horror. “No, no, that’s just the 11th Division! Only the 11th Division does that.”   
Kanda shrugs dismissively. He was just checking. 

“So when can I get out of this bed,” he says. He’s not yet willing to risk Captain Unohana’s wrath by leaving, but give him one more day cooped up in here with this squeaky toy shinigami and that might change. Yumichika poked his head in once yesterday, saw the paperwork, and fled. Coward. 

“Tomorrow,” says Hanatarou promptly, looking just as relieved as Kanda feels. “Captain Unohana will do the final check over and then you’ll be free to go.” 

“Quit that, Fishbone,” Kanda growls at the dog. “This isn’t food. It’s worthless.” 

“I’ll just...come back later,” says Hanatarou, trying to edge towards the door. “I really have other things to do today! Toilets to scrub! Sewers to clean!” 

Lizard lifts his head from where he was napping directly in front of the sole exit. 

“Paperwork to do,” says Kanda. 

He doesn’t smile. Not even a little. 

Though Kanda had been waiting impatiently for Captain Unohana’s arrival, he might have just plain escaped if he’d realized how thorough she was going to be with the examination. 

“Your reiatsu is still fluctuating,” she concludes. “You’ve never had enough to eat that you could sustain the full weight of your own soul.” 

So reiatsu is soul energy, which is what makes the food taste weird and possibly what the entire world is made of. Good to know. 

“You may have noticed Kenpachi’s reiatsu blankets the whole of the 11th Division and all of the Southeastern shop districts,” she continues, smiling. Yes. He had noticed that, actually. “Most captains chose to exercise control over their auras so as to not do that, but that is their prerogative.” She clasps her hands together. “Kanda,” she says. “You’re aura is still stabilizing, with stabilizing meaning that none of my unranked Division members are willing to enter this wing of the hospital because they think you’re going to eat them. As you are not a Captain, I am going to exercise my right to tell you to get that under control before you are next injured, or the consequences will be severe. Any questions?” 

The smile when one couldn’t see her eyes was somehow scarier than any that had come before it. 

“How old are you?” Asks Kanda. Next to him, Hanatarou faints.

“You should never ask a lady her age, Kanda,” says Captain Unohana. The air in the room gains crushing weight, and Kanda gasps for breath. 

“I’m looking for someone,” He says. “Not from Japan. Do you know where I could find them?” 

The pressure disappears as if it were never there, leaving nothing but a refreshing breeze.

“Would you do anything to find them?” She asks him. Her eyes are open, now, but they are flat and cold, as uncaring as fate’s terrible wheel. 

“Yes,” says Kanda. This cold, strange world is no replacement for Allen. 

“Would they do the same?” She asks, and Kanda hesitates. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, finally. “It’s not good for him to be alone.” And he would be alone, even in a world full of souls. Especially then. 

She watches him, and there is no smile traced across her face. 

“Kanda,” she says. “Have you ever looked inside the shadows?” 

Kanda shakes his head. 

“This is Soul Society,” Captain Unohana tells him. “The world where souls come after their mortal lives come to an end. There is only one Soul Society, but not all of the dead souls are here. Not even a quarter of them. Not even a tenth of them. Not even a _thousandth_ of them reside here. Look inside the shadows, Kanda. What do you see?” 

Everything has a shadow. Kanda lets his gaze drop, keeps going until he is looking at the shadow of his own bed. First, all he can see is the tatami matted floor. But he keeps looking, deeper and deeper and _deeper_ until he can see worn stone, and an endless sea, and wooden planks, and compact dirt, and--”

“That’s enough,” says Captain Unohana, stepping forward to block his view as he blinks at her, dazed with echoes. “There is only one Soul Society. But there are thousands of Soul Societies. Your _someone_ could be in any of them.” 

“So how do I get to him?” Kanda cuts in impatiently, heartbeat racing. 

“You can’t.”

The world dims around him. 

“Not without an anchor, at least.” 

“An anchor,” Kanda repeats, trying not to black out from the sudden adrenaline rollercoaster. 

Unohana nods, the braids twined under her chin swaying with the motion. 

“The shadows...are not a pleasant place to be,” she says. “You’ll need someone with a strong connection with your soul on this side of the transition to make sure the shadows don’t rip you apart.” 

This time, her smile flashes teeth. 

“You need to make friends, Kanda,” she says. Then she leaves with a flourish, Captain’s over robe flapping behind her. 

With Hanatarou still unconscious on the floor, Kanda ends up putting on his brand new shinigami uniform by himself, and thus decides that being barefoot is infinitely better than figuring out how to walk in socks and clogs. Now fully equipped with clothes and his sword, Kanda leaves. If Hanatarou wants him to have the paperwork that badly, he can bring it over himself. 

Kanda stops a random shinigami hurrying down the street. “Where’s the 6th Division?” He asks. Is he avoiding any further duties or responsibilities by taking it upon himself to go Hollow hunting? Of course not. He’ll kill anyone who says so. 

“Are you talking to me?” The shinigami responds, flipping his shoulder length black hair. The strands fall right back across his eye the minute he stops. 

“Yes,” says Kanda shortly. 

“I’m the sixth ranked officer of the 3rd Division!” The man huffs. 

“So you don’t know.” Kanda sighs. Useless. He walks forward--

“Of course I know,” says the shinigami. “But why would I tell a lowly peasant like yourself?” 

Kanda looks back at him, bored. Fishbone and Lizard both growl, low and rumbling. 

“I don’t know,” he says. And he doesn’t care. He’ll just keep stopping people until someone tells him. 

The shinigami grits his teeth. 

“The 6th Division headquarters is in the North,” he sneers. “Ambitions of rising above your station, street rat? The Kuchiki clan doesn’t accept just _anyone_.” 

“Did they reject you?” Kanda asks. 

The shinigami splutters, raising his chin above the white collared shirt he wears under his uniform. 

“Of course not!” He snaps. 

“Okay.” Kanda turns to head north. 

“That’s the wrong way. By the Hallowed Halls, I’ll take you there myself!” The shinigami barks, before taking a deliberate, deep breath and calming himself. “This way,” He says, now doing his best to ignore the dogs that are weaving in between his legs. 

“You still won’t be able to join the 6th Division,” the shinigami says, once they’ve traveled a few streets in silence. 

Kanda rolls his eyes. 

“I’m already in the 11th Division."

The shinigami trips on air. 

“The 11th Division _hates_ the 6th Division,” he murmurs, dazed. 

“Yes, I am aware,” says Kanda. “That’s why there’s a seventeen year backlog of Hollow killing joint explorations with them.” He’s brought three of them with him, all for the same District. Fun and efficient, his favorite. 

“You don’t talk like you’re from the 11th Division,” the shinigami says suspiciously. 

“I don’t value these directions enough to not kill you,” says Kanda. 

“I’m _Asuka Katakura_.” 

Kanda stares at him. 

“I’m Kanda,” he says. 

“Of the Katakura _Clan_ ,” emphasizes the shinigami. 

“Okay.” 

“Of course a brat from the 11th Division, wouldn’t understand,” Katakura mocks. “Not even a member of the weakest fallen clan would mingle with a clan lead by a brute from the _Rukongai_.” 

“So where’s the Captain of the 3rd Division from?” Kanda yawns. 

“He’s--” Katakura cut himself off, scowling and flushing with anger. 

“Ichimaru is only temporary,” he spits out. 

“Oh?” Forget the 6th Division, this is hilarious. 

“As soon as we get someone stronger, he’ll be right back as 3rd seat..” Katakura trails off. 

“Oh?” says Kanda again. “So you’ll be back at...” He’s already forgotten what rank this guy said he was. 

“7th rank,” says a low voice, husky with amusement. “As expected of the Katakura, huh?” 

Kanda looks up. Everything about this new shinigami is plain and simple-- limp brown hair, dark eyes-- except for the extremely strange copper spectacles perched on top of his nose. 

“Who are you?” He asks. 

The shinigami chortles. 

“What a rude brat. I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion, so I sped over here. So you’re the one the 11th Division finally forced into completing missions with the 6th?” 

Kanda sighs. 

“I’m Kanda, 4th ranked of the 11th Division,” he rattles off, boredom veering off into pure irritation. “We have 20 years of Hollow extermination backlog that I need to sign off of, so I just need to _find_ the _6th Division_.” 

Both the shinigami are staring at him with wide eyes. 

_“What.”_

“Fourth ranked....” the newcomer mumbles. Beside him, Katakura goes pale, and does a bow that brings him completely perpendicular to the ground. “Don’t set that demon on me,” he whispers, horrified. 

“Which one?” Kanda asks, even though he knows. 

“That...pink devil,” he wails, then looks over his shoulder and runs away, as if even that is enough to bring her down upon him. Who knows, it might if he’s unlucky. 

“I’m Ginjiro Shirogane,” says glasses guy. “3rd ranked of the 6th Division.” He smiles, making the spectacles twinkle even though they don’t even cover his eyes. “You made it to the right place, brat.” 

“Don’t call me that,” says Kanda. 

Shirogane laughs loudly, banging on his stomach. 

“My daughter’s in the Academy right now,” he says, proudly. “She’s been sponsored by the Kuchiki’s and everything! Let an old man have some fun with the younger generation.” 

The sword that hangs by his side has a circularly spiralled hilt, showing that if he doesn’t have his shikai, then he’s not far from it. 

“My name is Kanda,” Kanda repeats. This man is not an Exorcist, and this is not a negotiable point.

“Kanda, then,” the man concedes. “4th ranked of the 11th... giving you some of my men for a joint expedition would be a waste of both of our time.   
Kanda nods. 

“I’ll go with you then!” says Shirogane, delighted. 

No. 

“No,” says Kanda. 

“It’s perfect,” Shirogane announces, rubbing his hands together. He takes a closer look at Kanda’s aghast expression. 

“It’ll only be this once, Kanda,” he says, looking put upon. “I don’t have time to go on constant Hollow hunting expeditions. The 3rd ranked has a lot of responsibilities, you know?” 

Kanda is more than aware. He pulls out the document scrolls, and hands them over. “There are more,” he says, “But these three are all for the 56th District West.” Likely for the same Hollows that had been left unchecked, honestly. 

“The 56th District...” Shirogane takes a closer look at the mission scrolls. “That’s a long way away, Kanda.” 

“You can’t use Shunpo?” Kanda asks. Is that actually a rare skill. 

“The 11th Division really is full of monsters,” Shirogane sighs. “Most Shunpo practitioners are Lieutenant ranked or higher, at the most basic level, Kanda. Let alone the mastery needed to use Shunpo for transport instead of combat.” He looks up at the sky. “Many people were sceptical, when Tetsuzaemon Iba, 4th ranked of the 11th Division was promoted straight to Lieutenant. Even I was confused. Well, at least he’s well born, they said. But really...” He looks back at Kanda. “That’s not it, is it?” 

“You’ve got it backwards,” says Kanda. “The 11th Division doesn’t make you strong. Those who wish to make themselves stronger join the 11th.” Obviously. He waves the scrolls in Shirogane’s face once again. “So are you going with me, or not?” 

“I can’t spare the journey,” Shirogane says, regretfully. He perks up. “How about the Lieutenant goes with you?”

Kanda stares at him blankly. He can’t spare a month...but the Lieutenant can? Well, neither Kenpachi Zaraki or his small Lieutenant do any work either, so it probably isn’t considered a big deal. And he mostly came to figure out what was up with the 6th Division anyway. 

“I want to leave immediately,” Kanda says. 

“Immediately?” Shirogane adjusts his glasses on his nose so that he can stare through them at Kanda. “But you don’t have any provisions prepared! You’re not even wearing any shoes!” 

Fishbone whines a bit behind Kanda. 

“Provisions?” Kanda tilts his head for a second. 

“Do you expect the heir of the Kuchiki Clan to eat that horrible excuse for food they sell in the outer districts?” 

“It’s good enough for the dogs,” says Kanda, coldly. 

Shirogane wheezes, as if Kanda’s words had gained solidity and socked him in the solar plexus. 

“How about I find some other member....” He fumbles at his sleeves, searching for something. 

Kanda watches in amusement as another figure emerges behind Shirogane from the structure that he now knows houses the 6th Division quarters. This one has purple-blue eyes, and his mouth is twisted in a quiet, wry smile. A vertical three-ridged white hairpiece holds some of his straight black hair black from his face. 

“Finding more work for me to do, Genjiro Shirogane?,” He asks, every word from his mouth cold and crisp. 

Shirogane falls to his knees, his sword held forward like an offering. 

“Lieutenant Kuchiki!” he gasps. “Were you not paying a visit to the honored Shihouin Clan today?” 

So this is a Kuchiki. 

“I felt cold fingers wrap around my spine, and knew I had to hurry back at once,” The Kuchiki informs Shirogane. He smiles, bone chillingly graceful. “I see you have been speaking to my father again. He does so worry about my health.” 

“You’re health is of our utmost priority,” Shirogane reassures the Kuchiki, never moving from his lowered position. “Captain Kuchiki-- and my lowly self-- merely feel that your health would be improved by honing your blade against needful opponents.” 

“You are wasting my time,” interrupts Kanda. “All I require is a single member of the 6th Division to be present.” He taps his foot impatiently. 

“Oh?” the Kuchiki tilts his chin up. “Who is this, Ginjiro Shirogane?” 

“My name is Kanda,” says Kanda flatly. “Shirogane. I require a member of your Division.” 

“Lieutenant Kuchiki still remains the most able shinigami for such a task,” Shirogane replies, gaze still fixed on the ground in front of the Kuchiki’s feet. 

“Shirogane--”

“The Captain’s orders supersede all, Lieutenant Kuchiki,” Shirogane says, quiet but firm. “The next Hollow Extermination mission you are offered, you will take.” 

The Kuchiki’s smile fades. 

“Your devotion to the clan does you honor, Ginjiro Shirogane,” he says, finally. He turns to Kanda. “Give me the details of the mission.” he says. 

Kanda tosses the scrolls at him. “56th District West,” he says. 

“I’ll go get some ration packs,” Shirogane says, hurrying away. 

Kanda watches him leave while Kuchiki scans through the scrolls. 

“These missions are not recent,” Kuchiki points out. 

“The Hollows will still be there,” says Kanda. 

“You don’t speak like a member of the 11th Division.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Your aura is unusually hungry.” 

“It’s close to lunchtime.” 

“Why do you have two dogs behind you.” 

“They followed me here.” 

“You aren’t wearing any shoes.” 

“So?”

Kuchiki shows his first signs of anger as his eyebrows lift. 

“Are you wasting my time,” he demands. 

“No, you and Shirogane are wasting _mine_ ,” snarls Kanda. The dogs pick up on his irritation and growl behind him. 

“I’m back,” gasps Shirogane, trying to quietly pant while handing small bags to both Kanda and Kuchiki. “Here’s the necessary rations and here--” A black butterfly drifts from his finger and lands on Kuchiki’s hairpiece. “A hell butterfly, to send back to the Seireitei should you need to send a message back before your return. 

A message system designed around butterflies. It somehow seems much less secure than the winged golems that Kanda was used to, but they also promise to be much less trackable if one went on the run, which was a huge benefit in Kanda’s eyes. Not that he feels the need to escape from the Seireitei, but it was nice to know that he could if he wanted to. 

“Right,” says Kanda. “Come on, Kuchiki. We’ve got a long way to go.” 

“My strides are twice yours,” says the Kuchiki. 

“Then why are you behind me?” Kanda scowls, but also increases the length of his steps, just a little. No way is the ratio actually as bad as one step for every two of his. Beside him, Kuchiki also lengthens his steps as they continue walking. 

“You don’t even know where you’re going,” Kuchiki says, moving in front of him. 

“You’re going to walk into a wall with your nose that high in the air,” mocks Kanda. 

“You’ll trip over your own shadow with your feet so twisted,” Kuchiki snaps. 

“You’re about to trip over the _dog_ \--” Kanda warns, just a second too late as Lizard darts out in front of the man and he goes sprawling. 

Kuchiki scrambles to his feet, dusting off his clothes even though the entire Seireitei is cleaner than a hospital room floor. 

“Why are the dogs even coming,” says Kuchiki, eyeing Lizard darkly. 

“Why don’t you look where you’re going,” says Kanda, reaching into his new, convenient ration pack and giving the dog a treat. Fishbone whines a bit at not also receiving one, then turns to eye Kuchiki with a hopeful expression. 

“No,” says Kuchiki, firmly. Then he wilts a bit as Fishbone’s eyes get wider and his tail starts to wag. 

By the time that they arrive at the West Gate, Fishbone is happily munching on his own share of the rations. Kanda is expecting to have to summon whoever is in charge of lifting this particular waste of a door, but either Kuchiki is more influential than Kanda realized or no one cares who leaves the Seireitei, only who enters. 

The end result is Kuchiki leading Kanda and the two happy dogs through a smaller, regular sized door cut to open from the inside. Kanda casually memorizes its position. This trip has paid off already. 

The gifts just keep on coming as Kuchiki’s pace quickens the minute he enters the Rukongai. In addition, he hangs his head just a tiny bit forward, so his hair drifts forward in a shamefully bad attempt to hide his face. 

“Avoiding someone, Kuchiki?” Kanda asks, lips twitching. 

“You don’t know anything,” Kuchiki murmurs from the corner of his mouth. He draws himself stiffly up, pretending as if his previous attempt to hide his stature had never happened. “The Five Noble Clans of the Seireitei were each given the option of living within or outside of the Walled City, but only the Kuchiki and the Shihouin were courageous enough to leave behind their ancestral lands. The Shiba Clan chose to remain living in their territory, the first 3 Districts of the West Rukongai. 

“Three Districts for one clan?” Kanda asks, amused but also nostalgic for the Chang Clan that had raised him in that place hidden from the sky. 

“The Shiba Clan has a certain....specialty that makes many speculate that they would not...ah... do well in an enclosed space.” 

“Claustrophobia?” Kanda suggests. 

“Claustro--” Kuchiki blinks at him. “ _No_ , Kanda. Explosions.” An uncomfortable looks flickers over his face. “I dislike calling you so familiarly,” he added. “Give me your family name.” 

“That _is_ my family name,” Kanda snaps. His only family did not share the name, though. The scientists had not let him use Karma as his last name. 

“Ah. Then what is your first name, then?” 

“Fuck you,” says Kanda. “And _fuck_ \--”

“Hey look! I can’t believe it! _Sojun Kuchiki_ , in the flesh,” a voice cries from the nearby town that they are having this argument directly in front of. 

“Kukaku Shiba,” says Kuchiki, eyes widening in horror while his tone remains mild and polite. 

The lady in question is wearing a red and white sleeveless robe that is very deeply cut down the front. The tattoo on her left arm only serves to make her wooden right arm more obvious. Both of her hands rest on her hips and she is grinning in a way that gives Kanda a sudden, visceral overlay of Allen in the midst of a prank gone horribly right. 

“Dropped by unannounced for a personal visit, Sojun?” She winks at him. “You know that no matter how pretty you are, I’m truly only into the ladies~”

“Kukaku, your house _moves_ ,” Kuchiki points out almost plaintively. “It’s impossible for me to have just _happened_ to arrive.” 

“And yet you _did_!” Kukaku points out gleefully. “There I was, blowing up a pond, _minding my own business_ ,” 

This lady _definitely_ reminds Kanda far too much of his fellow Exorcists. 

“When I spot you-- _you_ , the hikikomori--” 

“I am not a hikikomori--” 

“And this brat--” 

“I am _not_ a brat--” 

“Arguing, right in front of my own front door! The shock I felt! The wonder! The pure, concentrated joy so great that I could bottle it all up and set it on fire!” 

“Please do not.” 

“Aww, Sojun, I know you are just sad that I’m not available, but there’s nothing I can do about your habit of bottling up your feelings til they explode. My methods are much more fun. Anyway, what’s brought you away from your true beloved, your paperwork?” 

“More paperwork,” says Kanda. He is going to need to just grap Kuchiki and run if this goes on for much longer. Getting sucked into the pace of someone like Kukaku Shiba is something that needs to be done with quickly, or you end up binding yourself to them for all eternity or stupid shit like that. 

Kukaku cracks up, sides shaking with laughter. 

“That’s perfect,” she pants. “That’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard. Though I wasn’t aware the 6th Division recruited brats.”   
Kanda crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I’m 11th Division,” he says, then grabs Kuchiki by the arm and bolts, dogs streaking behind him. Kuchiki may be chained by the requirements of manners, but Kanda sure as hell isn’t. 

He doesn’t let up on the pace until they enter the 4th District. 

“When it comes to people like that, you need to know when to cut your loses,” Kanda informs Kuchiki, willfully ignoring the fact that he has never once followed this advice in his long, terrible life. 

“I was engaged to marry her when we were children,” says Kuchiki, sounding dazed. “Then her brother became the Shiba Clan head, and he broke it off.”

“Good for him,” says Kanda, not sure why he has to listen to this. 

“She wants me to bring Byakuya out here so he can meet her.” 

Kanda has no clue who this is. Who any of these people are, really. 

“I’ve been holding out, but with the Shihouin Clan Lady exiled, he’s just been moping around the grounds, looking miserable. I don’t understand what was fun about playing tag with the Flash Goddess, but my son is a genius....”

Despite the fact that living with Allen has forced Kanda to grow inured to people whose explanations made less sense the more they explain, he had hoped he’d been done with that part of his life. 

“He’ll be fine,” says Kanda, dismissing the entire explanation to the part of his brain he reserves for things only Lavi would care about. 

“Yes,” Kuchiki agrees, returning to his more usual blank face mask. He stares forward towards the forest and sighs. “52 more Districts to go, then.” 

Fishbone barks in agreement. 

“We could always just fight more Hollows on the way,” Kanda suggests. 

“Why would that help us go faster?” Kuchiki asks. 

“We wouldn’t be bored,” says Kanda. “And Fishbone and Lizard need exercise.” 

“Fishbone and Lizard,” Kuchiki repeats. “The dogs. Those dogs.” He points at them. 

“Yes, those dogs.” 

“Their names. Ah...seem a bit unfitting.” 

“That’s what they looked like,” says Kanda. 

“What they looked like.” 

“Yes.” 

“But now they look like dogs.” 

“Yes.”

“And they always _were_ dogs.” 

“Yes.” 

“I take back what I first said to you,” says Kuchiki abruptly. 

Kanda can’t remember what Kuchiki first said to him, and can’t imagine it was that important. 

“What?” He asks anyway. 

“You _do_ talk like a member of the 11th Division.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to provide Kanda's zanpaktuo translation. whoops
> 
> 'Breathe easily, Darkness Cutter'


	4. The Second Generation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should've put this up a lot sooner, hmm? sorry about that

As it turns out, Sojun Kuchiki _could_ use shunpo. He couldn’t maintain it long enough to actually cut their travel time, but he could and did use it to avoid getting splashed the first time Fishbone and Lizard took their bath in the nearby river. 

“Tch,” says Kanda. He’d known how far away to stand, but Kuchiki had been close enough that Kanda had hoped he’d fall in and get soaked. 

“I do have a younger sister,” says Sojun dryly. 

Every time Sojun bringings up something new about his family Kanda wants to take another step farther away. The only big family he’s ever dealt with were the Noahs. So far, Sojun has a father, a sister, and a son? While looking about 22. Though Kanda would be the first person to tell you that what age you look like in Soul Society doesn’t mean shit. 

“People age in Soul Society, right?” Kanda checks. 

This does the double duty of getting an answer and distracting Sojun from dodging away from the muddy dogs as Fishbone promptly dives in between his legs. This wouldn’t have caused Sojun to fall except that he was so worried about hurting the dogs that he’d rather fall over than chance kicking them. It never gets old. 

“ _Yes_ , people age,” Sojun says, giving up on getting back up from the muddy ground and instead petting Lizard and trying to prevent the dog from licking his zanpaktou. “You’re the type that retains memories from when you were in the Living World, correct?”

Kanda nods. 

“Souls like you tend to age based on two variables. Memory milestones, and reiatsu. Reiatsu above a certain level can slow the aging process to an unbelievable degree-- some of the Captains are over 1,000 years old, easily. And then there’s...ah..the milestones. I’ve only seen this happen once, mind you. When someone I knew was reunited with their wife, who had survived them by... almost 30 years, I think it was. It seemed like they had aged years over night. They told me later...it was as if the world was only truly real for them once she was there with them.”

_The food here tastes like dust._

“There’s a long way to go,” murmurs Kanda. When he was truly nine he had dreamed of being so alone, so free. How fitting, that he would know of that freedom only to miss his clanking chains. 

“You’re so urgent, Kanda,” Sojun says gently, lightly jumping back to his feet. “We’re halfway there already!” 

Kanda blinks away the lotus flowers hiding behind his eyes. 

“We’re still in District 23,” he points out. “That’s why I said we still have a long way to-- _Hollow!_ ”

Sojun whirls, blurring away as the Hollow’s inky claws gash the mud where he was standing. Kanda draws Kurayami from its sheathe, dropping into a one handed stance and then darting forward to slash through the Hollow’s writhing abdomen. A blade whistles over his head as Sojun slices through a second Hollow that had dropped from the trees overhead, chittering and waving its thousands of tiny legs. Black bugs rain down from within the wounded Hollow and Kanda curses as tries to roll away before the bugs land on him. 

Feeling a bug crawling through his hair, he gives up on that approach, instead slashing directly upwards at the keening Hollow. This time it splits completely in half, letting out an ear piercing scream as more bugs pour outward from its mouth. 

“It’s a whole nest!” Sojun calls from behind him. 

Fuck. 

The bug that had landed in Kanda’s hair crawls down his neck and explodes, leaving a mild burning sensation to slide down his back. Just one will barely hurt him, but there are a lot of bugs still looking for a soft place to land. Thankfully, many of the bugs seem to be unable to approach him, probably because of his... reiatsu, wasn’t it called? Small mercies. 

Kanda runs his finger down the length of his blade, lighting it with blue fire. He’s not a huge fan of using Kurayami as a flyswatter, but needs must that the devil drives, or however Allen said it.

The bugs dissolve as he burns away the Hollow’s clicking bone mandibles and kicks the dissolving creature into the horns of the Hollow behind it. 

“Can you hold?” Kanda demands of Sojun as he dodges in between the Hollow’s antlers to avoid a dark mist creeping behind him. 

“For now,” says Sojun. “These Hollows...it's strange. They’re too powerful to have all formed a nest together. Unless...” He trails off and Kanda hears the powerful crunch of bone. “Kanda. Can you spare a second to look at the sky?” 

Can he spare a moment to look away from the twenty or so Hollows he’s fighting and stare at the sky. Kanda glances around, checking relative heights. Turtle boned Hollow, three horns, long neck. Perfect. 

He dashes forward and drives his sword straight into the turtle Hollows skull, letting his momentum carry him up and over so for a second his body lines up as if he’s doing a handstand with this hands still firm on the hilt of his sword. As the skull dissolves he finishes the flip landing on the narrow ridge of the Hollow behind it. Once again he darts forward, but this time forward is up as he runs along the elongated neck where he clings to the protruding bones as she shifts his gaze to the horrible, abyssal opening in the formerly blue sky. 

_Fuck._

“There is a crack in the sky,” says Kanda. 

“ _Sacred stars above_ ,” Sojun curses. 

“No,” says Kanda. “Just something trying to come through the crack, actually.” White clawed hands, huge and dreadful had emerged from the other side of the rend in the sky and were slowly pulling it wider and wider to reveal its bony face which itself was larger than the Hollow that was trying to shake Kanda off of its neck. 

“That would be a Gillian class Hollow,” says Sojun, voice growing calmer and calmer as he spoke. “It’s been centuries since I’ve last seen one, as they rarely venture out from their own world of Hueco Mundo. We must defeat it quickly before the Kumon opens wide enough to let its entire body through, Kanda. Gillian like to hunt in packs.” 

“Of course they do,” sighs Kanda, finishing off his temporary perch. “If you unleash your shikai, will you be able to take care of all the Hollows on the ground?” 

“...Ah,” says Sojun. “Um.” The pause stretches long enough that Kanda begins to hear the edges of the sky shattering above him. 

“Sojun!” Shouts Kanda, “ _Unleash your shikai!_ ” 

“It won’t help,” admits Sojun, stiffly. “My shikai....isn’t suited to fighting Hollows.” 

Naturally. 

Kanda can’t help but poke fun at Allen’s luck, but when it comes down to it, Kanda can roll snake eyes with the best of them. He’s been conserving energy by holding off his own shikai release, trying to make his starved reserves last longer, but. Fuck it, right?

“ _Breathe easily, Kurayami,_ ” he whispers. The words come to him, twisted and familiar. “Second Dream; Opening the Gates of the Netherworld.” He slashes forward and the flames of his sword erupt, gaining form as monstrous, winged creatures that rampage forward, devouring all the Hollows in their path. 

Kanda’s knees give out and he plants his hands in the mud to prevent splashing head first. It’s been less than a week since he left the 4th Division hospital, after all. If he comes back so soon Urahara really will kill him. 

“You got enough,” Kanda flaps his hand in a vague gesture. “Juice to take the big one?” 

“I can do no less,” says Sojun. 

“Good,” says Kanda, but Sojun is already gone. 

Kanda sits down in the mud, and digs around for his rations pack. The inside should be waterproof, hopefully. Or at least mud proof. He whistles for the dogs, absentmindedly listening to the battle going on in the sky above him. The Kuchiki lieutenant isn’t weak, by any means. He’ll be fine. 

Eventually, the sky closes up and Sojun drops back to earth. Aside from some muddy and singed clothing, he looks remarkably untouched by the whole battle. 

Kanda tosses him some food. 

“So....” he starts. “You’re shikai doesn’t work on Hollows.” 

“We’re starting with that, hm?” sighs Sojun. 

Kanda stares at him expectantly. Fishbone sticks his cold, muddy nose in the bend of Sojun’s knee. 

“I’d appreciate this not being widely known,” says Sojun, resignedly. “Mind if I use you as a demonstration? It’s not permanent...ah. Unless I let it be.” 

Kanda knows that he should not agree to this, but... it probably won’t be worse than accidentally drinking Komui’s coffee...

He shrugs. 

“You asked,” says Sojun. He holds his sword horizontally towards Kanda, as if offering it to him. “ _Yearn, Rakkazakura._ ”

The blade completely dissolves, leaving nothing but the handle. The moment stretches on...but nothing happens. Then, Kanda feels an itch at the back of his throat. He reaches up to cover his mouth as he coughs, then looks back at Sojun. 

“Nothing happened,” he says. 

“Look at your hand, Kanda,” says Sojun, softly. Kanda looks down, expecting to see blood. Instead, a single cherry blossom petal rests there.  
Kanda coughs, and coughs again. More and more petals fall from his mouth as he tries to gasp for air. 

“Rakkazakura converts the reiatsu that makes up a soul into sakura petals, starting from the inside,” Sojun explains, voice hushed. “If I let it go long enough, there would be nothing left of the soul but...fallen petals, scattered in the wind. But..” His eyes widen, and he hastily sheaths his sword, “You were affected at a far more rapid rate than most.” 

Kanda blinks woozily. That had, _quite literally_ , taken a lot out of him. 

“To work,” says Sojun slowly. “Rakkazakura uses the soul's purest emotion. Despair, hope, hatred... love. I... am truly sorry, Kanda of the 11th Division. Even the barest glimpse of your devotion... I have wounded you much, this day.” 

“You would love the lotus fields,” Kanda tells him, giving in to the tunneling rush of unconsciousness. 

He wakes up to muddy water being splashed in his face, courtesy of Lizard drying himself off. 

“Stupid dog,” Kanda grumbles, and shoves himself up to sitting. Sojun is leaning against a nearby birch tree, which does a great job of making his black robe stand out against the pure white of the bark. “How long was I out?” 

“Just a couple of hours,” Sojun reassures him. “On a different note, I’ve been thinking about why so many Hollows attacked us, but none of my answers fully explain the situation.” 

“I have shit luck,” says Kanda. 

“I... also have quite the unlucky streak when it comes to Hollow encounters, but I don’t think that was the only reason,” says Sojun. “Your reiatsu... I mentioned it seemed hungry, when we first met.” 

Sojun seemed to have high expectations for Kanda’s memory of his words. 

“Right.” Come to think of it, hadn’t Captain Unohana also said something like that? 

“I stopped noticing after being in your company for a while, as it blended into the background, but.... You seem to be absorbing a little bit of the energy of everything around you. I’m not sure where it's going once you absorb it, but that’s not the issue. To put it more bluntly.... You, Kanda, are walking Hollow bait.” 

Ah. 

“Captain Unohana told me that I’m not allowed back into the 4th Division until I reign in my reiatsu,” says Kanda slowly, a bit of information to distract Sojun from the more interesting question of where the energy he’s been absorbing is going. 

“Truly?” says Sojun, puzzled. “But Captain Unohana’s always so nice...” 

Kanda ignores that, and pulls out more food to chew on. 

“You’re distracting me,” says Sojun. “Even though you’re bait, that shouldn’t have triggered a Kumon to open like that. I’ll have to report this to my father once we return. You should do the same for your Captain.” 

“Kenpachi won’t care,” says Kanda. He can hear the creak of wagon wheels in the distance and wants to leave before he has to deal with civilians on top of everything else. 

“Then who do his subordinates report to...” Sojun trails off. 

“Ikkaku,” says Kanda, decisively erasing the pile of paperwork from his mind. “Fishbone, Lizard, get over here. It’s time to--”

“Excuse me, Shinigami-san?” 

It was a little kid. Blond, blue eyed, frail, sad-- the whole kit and kaboodle, right there. 

Kanda swallows down a curse. 

“Your name...” Sojun chose that time to speak up. “It’s Izuru Kira, correct?” 

The kid’s eyes lock onto Sojun and widen in complete shock. 

“Lord Kuchiki!” He cries, dropping into a low bow. 

“I’m simply the heir, young Kira,” says Sojun. “Please, straighten up. I don’t think I’ve seen you since the hour of your birth. Tell me, where are your parents? These woods are dangerous.” 

The kid swallows. 

“I know, Kuchiki-sama,” he says, eyes wet. “They come behind me.” Behind him was the wagon, pulled by a two horses and escorted by four guards. Beyond the driver, there was nothing living in that wagon. 

“I hope I will return in time for the funeral proceedings,” says Sojun, numbly. “You need not fear the path ahead. Between me and Kanda, this has become... quite the thorough sweep through the Hollows of the area.” 

“I thank you, Kuchiki-sama, Shinigami-san,” the kid says, bowing to Sojun then Kanda. The procession passed through the clearing quickly. 

“Who was that?” Kanda asks Sojun, not sure that he wants to know. 

“That was...the new Lord Kira,” says Sojun, tired worry crossing his face. “Heading to the Seireitei to cremate and bury his parents among the noble’s graveyard. The Kiras... they are low in status, but their noble blood is as strong as any. It was not sickness that ended the former Lord and Lady, or they would have gone to the Seireitei for aid.” 

“Hollow attack, then,” says Kanda. 

“...Quite,” says Sojun, bitterly. “It seems we were days late.” 

“We’re over a decade late,” corrects Kanda, mildly. He cracks his knuckles, then his neck. “Twenty-three districts to go,” he says, finally. “Stop burning daylight, Sojun.” 

“You’re the one who slept the day away,” Sojun points out as they continue their journey. 

“Shut _up_ , Sojun.” 

The days past quickly, and their travel time shortens more and more as Kanda picks up the basics of Shunpo from Sojun. 

“It’s just taking less steps between one place and another?” Kanda repeats, baffled. “That’s _it?_ ” 

“It’s using speed to take less steps,” Sojun disagrees, demonstrating the method again. “Don’t overthink it.” 

Kanda tries again, blurring forward only to barely misjudge his distance and trip on a protruding tree root, sending him straight towards the ground. He can _feel_ how badly Sojun’s urge to laugh at him is conflicting with his upbringing, and if the urge to laugh ever wins Kanda is going to cut out his tongue. 

It’s not til they arrive at the 56th District that Sojun asks Kanda about his own zanpakuto. Not about what the zanpakuto did, exactly, but--

“That blue fire you used,” says Sojun. “Before you triggered your shikai. Is that teachable? A silent Kido?” 

Kanda considers. He has no idea what a Kido is, so probably not. 

“The sword is our soul, right?” He says finally. “Or a mirror of our soul. It's something that brings what’s inside, outside.” 

“That’s...one way of putting it,” says Sojun. His voice seems a bit strangled. 

“So you just... light yourself on fire, but yourself is the sword,” Kanda tries to explain. Explaining things is horrible, actually. He regrets it immediately. 

“Doesn’t that...hurt?” asks Sojun, eyeing Kanda worriedly. 

“No?” It doesn’t, surprisingly enough. When he was wielding Mugen, it was more a side effect than anything. Not that Mugen hasn’t given him plenty of painful side effects.  
Sojun sighs. 

“Forgive me my curiosity, it was an ill thought question.” 

Kanda tilts his head up to look at Sojun. 

“You don’t actually want to wield the blue fire,” Kanda says, turning the question over in his head. “You just want a step between nothing and using your shikai.” 

Sojun winces slightly. 

“A non reiatsu intensive step,” he specifies. “I do know some Kido, even if my control is not the finest.” 

A step before shikai... Kanda scrapes through his memory. He knows he’s heard a piece of this puzzle somewhere before.” Who had first mentioned shikai's to him.... Hmmm... ah. Kanda drops his fist onto his open palm. 

“Yumichika!” He says, triumphantly. “That’s who it was.”

“Your 5th seat?” 

“You need a fake shikai,” says Kanda. Like he had been using before he figured out Kurayami’s name. 

“Excuse me?” 

“A fake shikai. Use the wrong name to call your sword, or the wrong instruction. Your sword...probably won’t like it, though. Kurayami... it will release some power when I call it by a different name but then it backlashes.” Kanda shrugs. He doesn’t like being misnamed either, so it’s a completely understandable reaction. 

“I will have to negotiate with Rakkazakura, then,” Sojun says, hope and determination lighting his eyes. He pauses, then bows to Kanda. 

Kanda freezes. 

“I thank you for your help, and for your kindness,” says Sojun, and his smile flashes across his face as a falling star, more beautiful for its fading. 

Allen had once compared Kanda to the fae of legend, who had spurned all thanks and gratitude as horrible traps that bound them to servitude. He was delirious with fever at the time, of course, but with Allen that never meant very much. 

“You’re mad,” Kanda tells Sojun, much more sincere than he meant to be. 

“Then you must be very fond of madmen,” says Sojun, the last hint of his smile still lingering as he straightens. 

And... how can Kanda deny that?

Compared with the conversation that came before it, clearing out the Hollow nest that has taken up residence in the 56th District is a piece of cake. 

“We need to return to sending expeditions beyond the first 40 Districts more often,” says Sojun, horrified the the number of Hollows that they had destroyed. “This level of nesting truly cannot be allowed to go on.” 

“Return?” Kanda asks. 

“A little more than a decade ago... the Soul Society faced an unprecedented loss in power,” Sojun says, eyes darkening. “It was...a tragedy, to lose so many powerful pillars of the Seireitei to the schemes of one man.” 

“Oh?” 

“Urahara Kisuke....” Sojun states. “The former Captain of the 12th Division. He was exiled to the Living World for his crimes. He should have been stripped of his powers also, but. The former Shihouin Clan Head and Captain of the 2nd Division accepted his crimes as her own and followed him into exile. The Shihouin Clan... would not let any punishment that had her be stripped of her powers allowed to proceed.” 

That sounded... incredibly suspicious. 

“The shockwaves from these terrible losses still run through Soul Society,” continues Sojun, regretfully. “The manpower shortage resulted in many missions being delayed or overlooked, and the farther districts are always the first to fall by the wayside. It is unconscionable, truly. I will alert the other lieutenants of the need to increase the number of expeditions before the problem continues to grow. I cannot imagine the difficulties the highest Districts are facing.” 

“It’s not that bad to the south,” says Kanda, vaguely. “The children tend to know which parts of the forest to avoid.”  
Sojun stumbles. 

“Kanda, I--” he says. “I mean, I ah....” He drew in a deep breath. “I hate to ask, but how far south were you, precisely?” 

“78th District South,” says Kanda, not quite amused. “I imagine I cleared most of the local Hollow population all the way through the 51st District on my way up, so that should help the patrols.” 

“I imagine it will,” says Sojun, looking at Kanda thoughtfully. “I would say thank you for your aide, but I imagine you won’t appreciate it,” 

“No,” says Kanda. 

“But I would like to--” 

“ _No_.” 

“I’ll think of something,” Sojun promises. 

“Don’t.” 

In the end, the entire mission takes less than three weeks, but Kanda winds up teaching Sojun how to fish anyway. It’s all the dogs’ fault, really. They ate too much. 

“I wonder how much paperwork has piled up in my absence,” says Sojun as they part ways. 

“The next person who hands me paperwork will lose their hand,” says Kanda darkly as he heads towards the 11th Division. 

Swinging her feet of the wooden gate of the entrance is the the pink demon herself. 

“Hey, hey, kitty~,” She calls down at him. “Have you come to play with me? Ken-chan is taking a nap right now, so I get first dibs!” She beams at him with her rosy cheeks. 

Kanda stares up at her, baffled. ‘Kitty’? Where did she get that from?

“My name is Kanda,” he says. 

“Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head. “Kitty. Because--” She counts off her fingers. “Claws. Small. Grouchy.” She grins, makes a petting motion. “Soft. It’s perfect!” 

“You’re smaller than me,” Kanda points out, grouchily. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Kandacchi~” She drags out the chi as she stares at him. 

He’s pretty sure that this nickname might be... worse. 

Yachiru bounces. 

“It’s so I can have piggyback rides,” she braggs. “Good for gutting people~ Wait.” Yachiru tilts her head way too far to the side, crosses her arms, and nods decisively. “I see, I see. No good, Kandacchi. There can only be one Ken-chan, and that’s _my_ Ken-chan! So you have to go play with your sword, now. Bye bye!” She waves at him and then drops backwards so that her feet her keeping her hanging upside down from the gate. “Have fun, Kan-da-chi!” 

Kanda ducks around her in order to enter the 11th Division compound. 

“Ikkaku!” He yells. “You bald asshole! Get out here!” 

Ikkaku, who had been napping in the shade of one of the building’s overhangs yawns, deliberately digging one of his pinkies into his hear. 

“Oh,” he smirks. “Hey, Kanda. Wanna fight?” 

“Later,” says Kanda. “Take back your fucking paperwork, Ikkaku.” 

“Aw, Kanda, don’t you know? Only the Captain and Lieutenant can touch that paperwork,” says Ikkaku, shaking out his hands. 

“Your signature,” Kanda points out calmly and deliberately, “Is on some of them.” 

“How can that be?” says Ikkaku, using his sword as a pillow and looking incredibly put upon. “I’m just some poor ruffian from the Rukongai, ne’er learned to read nor write.” 

“Please tell me who said that to you,” says Kanda. 

“Nah, I already killed them,” says Ikkaku. “But seriously, Kanda. Dealing with those reports...it’s like drilling a fucking hole through my skull. And Captain Kenpachi doesn’t care about stuff like that. The 4th seat before you... he’s Lieutenant Iba, now. He used to take care of the basic paperwork-- refused to touch the backlog, but made sure that the system didn’t completely break down. But all I care about it following my Captain, Kanda. It’s up to you if you care enough to deal with that shit.” 

“Fuck you,” says Kanda, suddenly tired. 

Ikkaku flips Kanda the bird and then goes back to his nap. 

He doesn’t want to sleep right now so... meditation it is, then. 

“Hey, Ikkaku,” says Kanda. “I got a room around here?” 

“Sure,” mumbles Ikkaku. He doesn’t open his eyes. “Just find a room that you like, then kick whoever's living there out.” 

Simple. 

Kanda looks through doorways until he finds a room with an unbroken bed and a window with a working catch. Then he settles into meditation, the first time he has felt safe enough to do so since he died for that final time. 

_:Took you long enough:_

There was nothing around him but darkness, thick and heavy and pressing in on him from all sides. 

“Who’s there?” Kanda snaps, straining his eyes in the hopes of seeing anything. 

_:I’m right here. Idiot:_

“I can’t see you,” says Kanda, frustrated. 

_:Don’t use your eyes then, Ba-kanda:_

“Don’t call me that!” Kanda grumbles, closing his eyes to help him focus more on an actually useful sense. But still. Nothing. 

_:You’re not very good at this:_

“You give bad instructions,” grunts Kanda. “Shut up and let me try.” He can feel something close to him, he’s sure of it. It’s soft, more like a breeze... but steady, a constant beating pressure. His focus narrows even further and he reaches out, confident this time. He moves up, and his finger touches something-- and slides right off. 

“Who are you?” Kanda demands. 

_:You know:_

“I don’t know,” says Kanda...but. It’s so familiar. He’s never felt anything like that, but it was... smooth, and warm. A slick texture, but full of tiny, almost... feathery etchings?

_:You know me:_

“What is your name?” Kanda asks, voice hollow. He reaches out to try and touch it again. He’s always been so cold....

_:Say it. Kanda Yuu:_

Kanda swallows. He hates this...this uncertainty, this darkness inside his own mind. 

“Hello,” he says, “Kurayami. It’s good to meet you at last.” He offers his hand blindly, willingly. It’s almost a surprise when something human shaped grabs it.  
From the point where their hands meet, a blossom of light erupts outward in all directions devouring the darkness until nothing of it remains. 

Kanda stares at the incarnation of his soul and his first jagged, wondering thought is-- 

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts out. 

_:You think so?:_

Kurayami’s wings spread out, six feet at least on either side and made completely of shattered stained glass that beat back an forth as a butterfly’s would. He’s as tall as Kanda at his adult height, clad in a tan long coat over a simple linen shirt and jeans. A dark blue masquerade mask covers the upper half of his face, with the part that should cover his nose elongated far longer until it curls into something resembling the proboscis that acts as a butterfly’s mouth. His hair, lilac and feathery, brushes his jawline, rustling in the wind generated by his own flight. 

“Yes,” Kanda says softly. “I know it.” 

_:Kanda Yuu:_ Kurayami smiles and brushes his hand across Kanda’s cheek. _:Look down, my wielder. This world that you have made for me.... Kanda, it is your heart that is beautiful:_

Kanda looks down, and sees a field of blossoming pink and white lotus flowers each nestled on their green pads over the quietly lapping water that he is standing on, and watches the field stretch on until it meets the distant horizon. He dips a hand into the muddy waters below his feet, watches it drip from his fingers.

“Alma would have liked it here,” he whispers...and he, he can’t bear it any more. He curls up, covering his eyes so that even here, no one can see him cry. “You remember, don’t you? How much he loved... the lotus flowers.” 

He feels warmth against his back, and the wings curl over him. 

_:You’ll see them again: Kurayami promises. _:Your friends-- they are out there waiting for you, my wielder. They are bound to you by fate-- by the thread that binds our souls. I so swear to you, Kanda Yuu. You will never be alone:__

**Author's Note:**

> The main character of this fic is Kanda. Allen will appear later. 
> 
> I love all comments! Please comment!


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